English is not my first language, but I have a Beta who I would like to thank for helping me out. Anyway, I hope you like it. The idea of this fic it is a little bit weird, nevertheless i would like to think it's interesting.

PROLOGUE

As any other day, the clouds cover the whole city of London. I don't look up, because I know I will find no difference with the cloudy sky of yesterday or the day before. I look down thinking about old times, when Harry, Ron and I were hiding from Voldemort and its minions in the forests. Those days when rains were so heavy that the three of us had to sleep in the same room in order to be warmer.

That year we overcome a lot of difficulties. We were hungry, cold, and so scared that every night we slept listening to the radio in hopes of not hearing any familiar name in that old gadget. And back then, as ironic as it sounds, everything was clear to me. I didn't know all the details of what we had to do, but I knew my mission in life, which was finding Horcruxes, destroying them, and killing Voldemort.

Now we are in peace and I am lost, I have nothing at all, I lost so many people that I see no reason to keep going on. One of those are my parents, who in spite of my attempts of protecting them died after an unexpected Death Eaters' attack. I cannot suppress the feeling of failure in protecting my family. I must have been prepared for their onslaughts against muggles, and for sure, would never had predicted Bellatrix Lestrange would took upon the task of showing me the agony they put them through. Their shouting will follow me to my death, which luckily is coming.

After war, I thought life would get better, I was wrong. A year later, my girlfriend abandoned me and took my son with her. A son who doesn't know the truth about me, he considers me his aunt and I cannot really say I blame his other mother for this. I understand that once I was tortured by the hands of Bellatrix, I became someone whose mind is full of darkness and pain with episodes of temporary amnesia. It is complicated to deal with me, I cannot take care of anyone, not her, not my child, not even of myself.

She wasn't the only one who left me behind, many did the same thing to me as if I were a flea-ridden dog. When one of our closest friends was murdered, they had no doubts I was after this. I have no alibi to defend myself of such a crime, no memory to deny it wasn't me. Confusion is my natural state of mind, but it couldn't have been me. I've been aggressive due to my nightmares, although never aggressive enough to kill anyone, leave aside a friend.

There is only one truth I know and it is I won't spend the rest of my days in Azkaban.

I look at the ground under my feet. "It is only a little jump" I say to myself stretching my arms and allowing the air filling my lungs. My heart beats with joy because my suffering will stop soon.

Then, out of nowhere, I hear some voices behind me. "I told you she would end up doing something stupid like all celebrities".

I turn around to see the man who passes a moral verdict about me with no knowledge of my situation. People talk too much and declare themselves as experts on matters they have no idea.

The man in question looks like a foreigner, robust complexion, a three-day beard and his eyes are as dark as his hair. To my surprise, he is not alone. Next to him, there is a blond woman with mesmerizing blue eyes.

"You were right. What a disappointment!" she says in a light and pretty french accent as she gets close to me and peered over the cornice "Killing yourself from a skyscraper. Yeah, creative! Are you really the brightest witch of your age?!"

It has been so long since someone calls me that. I was the brightest witch of my age once, ain't anymore. "Leave me alone!"

She laughs ironically finding my misfortune funny. "Do you really think we are going to let you kill yourself? The Wizarding European Commission cannot dispense of heroes like you"

Seriously, what the hell are they talking about?! I come down to face these meddlers who are annoying and disrespectful persons unable to get off my case " I am not a fucking heroine, don't you read the newspapers?!"

"Well, we don't believe in what journalists writes" He answers hinting on Neville Longbottom's death, the crime I would like to think I have nothing to do with. I would give my soul to remember what I did that disastrous day.

" Do you think I am not guilty?" Even I cannot swear it.

The blond lady comes near and glances at me mysteriously as if she perceives things I don't "We don't think so, we know you are not guilty"

I am as sure as hell I have not met them before, so I cannot understand why they are so convinced of my innocence. "Who are you?"

"Let's start from the beginning" she shakes my hand with strength "My name is Fleur Delacour and he is Viktor Gartzía. We have something that you might be interested in"

...

NA: I'd like to read your reviews about what you think. :)